Takarn woke to ice cold water being poured over his sleeping form.

He jumped to his feet as several Sheeran clan members yelped in surprise and scuttled back off to their own camp.

Now the memories were coming back to him, he started a riot, and then afterwards drank and fucked with several members of Sheera’s clan, good times.

He smiled as he daydreamed before a punch to the ribs from Mivnev broke him from his stupor.

“Why do you wake me?!” He yelled at her.

“You ordered the troops back to the valley to train at noon, it is currently one hour before noon.” She said deadpan, seemingly unafraid of his outburst.

He got dressed in a rush which was seemingly becoming the norm for him before eating some food that Mivnev offered and then all but ran down to the training field, just making it in time for noon.

He walked in front of his troops who were assembled in 5 rows of 10. He examined both them and their gear, both of which seemed to be within fighting trim.

“Orcs!” He yelled, starting the ancient call and response battle cry of his people.

“Who are we?!” He started.

“The strongest!” They roared back.

“Who are we?!” He asked once more.

“The biggest!”

“Who are we?!” He yelled a final time, much louder than any other repetition so far.

“We are the orc! Orcs! Orcs!” They said bashing the butts of their spears against the ground with each repetition.

Good. He thought, now, to train.

He ran them through a series of progressively complex spear drills with Mivnev echoing his orders down the line and correcting any out of place orcs with a beating.

This continued for about a week, his men would arrive at the field at noon and then leave long after the sun had set. They were all tired, they were all hurting, but it got results.

In that week his spear walls got tighter and more disciplined, his troop manoeuvres smoother and quicker and the close combat skill of his troop grew to a level incomparable to what it was before.

More weeks passed and all Takarn did was train, train and train until on his third week he felt the air temperature drop a considerable amount, winter was coming. Soon the Khans would have to choose whether or not to invade now or wait for the next season.

Takarn was conducting close combat drills when he was approached by Khan Kelshar.

He and his whole troop dropped to one knee in the middle of the field, Takarn had come to see the man as a mentor, and he admired him as a warrior.

“Rise young Takarn.” He said in his characteristic smooth voice.

“You honour me with your presence my Khan.” Takarn said the automated response drilled into him by his parents.

“I have not come to honour you now rise.” He said gesturing upward with his arms.

“If I may be so bold as to inquire my Khan, why is it you have come?” Said Takarn with genuine curiosity.

“I came to ask you a question son, are you and your men up to a bit of killing?” A vicious smile crept along Takarn’s face before he replied.

“What is it you had in mind?” Takarn wanted this, he could already smell the blood of his enemies and hear the lamentations of their women.

“As you have probably noticed, winter approaches, and the Khagan has decided to winter here before invading in spring. But this is where the problem lies, we do not have enough food.”

“Now of course we could always send some of the army away but what is to say that portion would return.” He continued. “So the Khagan has been motioning for the Khans to each choose a Bogdan and send them to raid the neighbouring kingdom of Belandier for grain.” He said excitedly, it would seem he was as stir crazy as everyone else. “So Takarn, do you accept.”

Takarn looked back to his men as they nodded furiously before looking back to his Khan with a cruel glint in his eye. “When do we start?”